The Lost Son
by rmartin318
Summary: Hermione gets the surprise of her life when she meets her son. The only problem is, he's 30 years older than her.
1. Chapter 1

_Albus, _

_ As you know, we have been corresponding for the last few years. However, I believe the time has come for us to meet in person. I look forward to having a face-to-face discussion on Mendelin's fourth law of Transfiguration and how it contrasts with Howinger's Law of Anti-Matter, so that we might come to a conclusion once and for all. But mostly, I feel it is time to tell you my life story, a story I have never revealed to anyone, and it is of the utmost importance that you hear it, for whether you know it or not, you play a significant role._

_ Send me an owl back as to when you will be expecting me. I leave France tomorrow and should be in England two days after that._

_Adrian Black_

Albus Dumbledore's curiosity was piqued. Adrian Black and he had been pen pals for the last ten years or so, and for him to want to meet in person took the old man by surprise, as Adrian had vehemently refused to for the last nine of those years. The headmaster took a deep breath and decided not to worry too much about it until he had met with his younger friend. After all, with Voldemort gone and Harry safe and sound in his seventh year, Albus had earned the right to relax from constant worrying and constant planning. It was time for him to enjoy his reprieve, to take in the little things in life that usually were drowned out when the pressure mounted too high on a person. That's why Albus had treated himself to a hundred new pairs of woolen socks, and a new stock of lemon drops. Yes, Albus would wait to worry about Adrian until Adrian gave him reason to.

* * *

Hermione sat studiously in the common room. She had just finished McGonagall's most recent essay on innate magic that wasn't due for a fortnight, and picked up her Herbology text, _Overlooked Flora and Fauna: A Reference Guide,_ intending to re-read the next few chapters so she would be prepared for the next week or so. Now that she didn't have the threat of a looming war hanging over her head, the head girl could get back to doing what she does best: learning.

It did bother her that the entire wizarding world only saw her in one of two ways, that she was a brown nosing bookworm, or that she was one of the saviors of their world and deserved lavish praise. In all honesty, she was neither. Her desire to prove herself that she felt so strongly upon entering the wizarding world at eleven had completely diminished at the climax of the war, and all that was left of that was the desire to learn. She genuinely _liked_ to learn, and to her there was nothing wrong with that. Why Ron and the rest of the world had to torment her for that she didn't know. The only one who really understood, to a degree, was Harry. Harry, the brother of her heart, the boy who had to grow up too soon, understood because he was the only one who really saw her. He understood where her desire to learn had grown from and he benefited from all that accumulated knowledge during the short-lived war. So to him, that strange quality that separated her from full acceptance by her peers, had saved his life. How could he deny her after she stayed by his side, his most loyal friend, his sister in every way but blood? He accepted her and loved her, and for that Hermione was truly grateful.

Coming back to the present, Hermione realized that she hadn't taken in any of the words before her as she was caught up in her thoughts. Sighing, she glanced at the clock above the fire. Seeing that it was really late, Hermione had a moment of panic, threw all her stuff into her book bag and climbed the stairs to the girl's dorm to try and get a peaceful night's sleep before she had to be up in five hours.

* * *

The next morning arrived earlier than anyone wanted. Hermione literally rolled out of bed, bringing the quilt with her and bumping her head obnoxiously on the nightstand as she went.

"Ugh! Stupid piece of furniture." She mumbled.

The day passed too slowly for Hermione's taste. She answered questions, helped her peers when they couldn't quite grasp the material, and verbally spared with a Slytherin or two just as she normally did, but for some reason the day dragged on. Harry and Ron walked back with her from dinner that night, both anxious for Quidditch practice that night.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said, "You want to come watch us practice tonight?"

"Oh, I don't know, Harry," she replied, "I have more studying I want to get done. N.E.W.T.s are coming up you know, and they won't prepare for themselves."

"Are you still going on about N.E.W.T.s, Hermione? They aren't for another five months and you already know everything anyway. What's the problem with skipping on night's studying?" Ron chimed in.

"Well, if you must know, Ronald, these are the most important tests of our lives and they will--"

"Determine the course of our lives, affect our entire future, yeah, yeah, yeah, we've heard this speech twenty thousand times from you and from every bloody teacher in this place."

"You'd do well to remember it, Ronald Weasley, I apologize _profusely_ for caring enough about my friends to _want_ them to do well on _the_ most important test they will _ever_ take, ever." With that she rushed off ahead of them, shouting behind her, "Sorry I care!"

Ron turned red at Harry's glare. "Sorry, mate, she's just so sensitive."

"Oh come on Ron, are you bloody thick? She's stressed out to the max and on top of that everyone can tell she likes you, and--"

"What? Hermione likes me?"

"Yes, you idiot! She doesn't go around talking about it but anyone with eyes, ears, and a heartbeat could tell you that she does. So when you say inconsiderate things to her, she takes it twice as personal because it came from you" And with that, Harry rushed off as well, leaving Ron to barely make out his friend's muttered, "Dolt."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore's bushy eyebrows rose so high they were threatening to disappear into his hair. "What? Are you certain, Adrian?"

"Yes, Albus, I am very certain. I have proof, and my foster parents told me the entire story only omitting my father's identity." Albus prided himself on his ability to stay calm, but this was pretty hard to take in.

"So, I assume you would like to meet her and talk to her about it yourself?" Adrian's blue eyes twinkled, not unlike his companion's.

"Yes, Albus, it is imperative she is told before she goes. Cygnus and Penny expressed that fact most strenuously before their deaths. That should I want to live, I would have to tell her in 1998, no sooner and no later. Now is the time, Albus, from what I hear, she can handle it."

"I don't like this, my friend, but I will comply. I'll send for her."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: By the way, I do not own Harry Potter, and sorry I forgot to put this disclaimer in the first chapter.

Hermione had just gotten the last bit of animosity out of her system and was settling down to work on some homework when the owl came. She thought it odd for an owl to come in the evening, but taking pity on the bird she threw open the window just long enough to let the owl in, after all, it was quite freezing in mid January.

_Miss Granger,_

_ Please come to my office immediately. There is someone here who needs to speak with you. The password is Cockroach Cluster._

_Albus Dumbledore_

_How strange_, she thought. _Dumbledore wants to see me now? It's almost nine in the evening._ She got up, quickly returned her books to her room and dashed off to the Headmaster's office, brain whirling at possible scenarios, each more terrible than the last.

As she neared the gargoyle statue guarding the Headmaster's office, Hermione slowed down. It would not do to be panting in the presence of Professor Dumbledore and his mystery guest. She gave the password and started up the stairs, curious as to what all this was about. Who was this person who wanted to meet her? Surely Dumbledore would not allow a fan to meet her. Hopefully not, as she hated her fans' worshipful attention. _Well, only one way to find out, Hermione. _With that she knocked on the door.

"Do come in, Miss Granger." Hermione opened the door and eagerly searched the room, her eyes landing on a handsome black-haired man who looked to be around fifty. His raven locks were straight, and naturally fell out of his ocean blue eyes.

"Good evening, sirs. You wanted to meet with me?" To Hermione's surprise, the man's gaze had landed on her and he had not looked away since she crossed the threshold. He openly appraised her, not in a threatening manner, but enough to make her feel uncomfortable.

"Yes, Miss Granger. Mr. Black, here, wanted to make the acquaintance of the famous Head Girl."

The black-haired man who must be related to Sirius, smiled in her direction, "Miss Granger, you have no idea how pleased I am to finally meet you," he said to her, his voice a rich baritone that instantly warmed his appearance.

"Mr. Black, the pleasure is all mine. Would you happen to be the Adrian Black who supplemented the Ministry with enough research on time travel that they invented the Time Turner?"

He smiled, "Why, yes, I am that Adrian Black. I'm quite surprised you know about that actually, very few people know."

"Well, in my third year here, I used one in order to attend every class Hogwarts offers. The Time Turner fascinated me so naturally I did some research and your name came up. I would love to ask you how you realized that you could manipulated the Ogwardder--" Professor Dumbledore cut her off with a smile and a twinkle of the eye.

"Miss Granger, pardon my interruption, but I do believe Mr. Black has come for a specific purpose, perhaps you could discuss his methods afterward?"

"Yes, thank you Albus. Miss Granger, I came to tell you a story. How well do you know the Noble House of Black?"

"Well I would never presume to say I knew everything about the Black family, but I did know the last of the line, Sirius, and I lived in his house at Grimmauld Place for a while. Why? Does your story have to do with your family?"

"Yes, Miss Granger. I've come to tell you how the Blacks became good."

"But only Sirius and Andromeda Tonks ended up on the Light side."

His warm blue eyes crinkled, "That you know of, Miss Granger. But that was only one branch of the family. How do you think those two came out of such a long line of evil? They had inspiration and support from others of the family."

"Come to think of it, Mr. Black, I don't think I ever saw your name on the family tree, I assume Sirius' mother blasted you off as well?"

"Yes, my dear sister-in-law. She was a piece of work. Now, I know you are inquisitive, but please allow me to start the story, and hopefully finish it without interruptions, as all your questions will be answered as we go along. Will that be agreeable?" His eyes smiled as he spoke, something Hermione rarely saw and envied that he could do that while she could not.

"Certainly, sir." After a pause, she added truthfully, "well, I will do my best, sir."

"That's all I ask. Now, where to begin?"

"Pardon me, Adrian, Miss Granger, but I will take my leave, this is a story that only the two of you should know." He rose to his feet, the old man's tall frame towering over the younger woman. He motioned her to his seat, "I bid you adieu, and Adrian, please do not wait another ten years to meet with me."

"Of course, Albus. Thank you for understanding." Dumbledore nodded and left his office, whistling an unknown melody.

"Well, now, Hermione. Do you mind if I call you Hermione?"

"Not at all, sir."

"To you, I am Adrian, if you continue to call me sir by the end of this story, something will be wrong."

"I don't understand, sir. Adrian, I mean."

"That's alright, Hermione, you will. Now, I believe I was about to begin the story, yes?" He saw his young companion nod and continued, "The Black family started to turn in the 1940's when a young woman came into my parents' lives. Cygnus and Perenelle, who always insisted everyone call her Penny, had just become engaged over the Christmas holiday of their seventh year. They were madly in love, and stayed that way until their deaths just a few years ago. When they returned to Hogwarts for their final term, a transfer student had arrived and was planning on finishing the term at the school rather than being home schooled as she had previously been. No one though it odd, as during that time the war with Grindewald raged and hardly anyone was safe, save for those at Hogwarts in the care of Albus.

"This woman befriended them and showed them the error of their ways, so to speak. It's easy to say that she changed their centuries-old way of thinking, but it took a great deal of effort on her part. She chose to hide her muggle-born nature, and have them think she was a pure-blood in order to escape the prejudice that plagued Hogwarts even then. When the truth came out months later, the three were already the best of friends and the soon-to-be-Blacks could not determine that she was in any way inferior to them because she was clearly the brightest witch of her age."

Something about the 'brightest witch of her age' comment threw Hermione. Adrian's casual use of a pejorative commonly associated with herself made the Head Girl empathize with this girl who traveled through a war-torn history, came from the Muggle World and rose above it all to be considered the best of her time. Hermione found herself literally on the edge of her seat, her curiosity of the eerie similarities threatening to burst out.

"But who was she, Adrian?"

"I see your patience has already run thin, Hermione. We'll get to that soon, and I'll even show you a picture." She nodded, and almost looked ashamed.

"The girl, woman really, fell in love with one of my father's friends, madly, deeply, scarily in love. She found her soul mate and became pregnant right out of Hogwarts, and the couple was very happy. But then, for reasons that I have only half-way understood, the woman came to my parents in the middle of the night frantic. She insisted that she had to leave and then asked my parents if they would take care of her baby, as she couldn't bring him with her.

"This shocked my parents because the devotion she showed to her son was astounding. She was the type of mother who adored her son and found everything he did fascinating, playing with him, the soft hair on his head, the different sounds he would make." Adrian's voice took on a note of wonder, like he was remembering something with fondness and longing, though Hermione did not understand why.

"She shared with everyone how she was convinced her son was the smartest child in England. So, when she asked to leave him with my parents, they knew that whatever was happening to her was very serious. Eventually they dragged out why she needed to leave." He paused, caught up in his thoughts for a moment.

"What happened to the baby, Adrian? What happened to the woman's son, did she come back for him?"

"She wanted to, but she couldn't. So the boy was raised by the Blacks."

"So he's your brother? Or... you're him. " Her voice inquisitive and her eyes filled with understanding.

"Yes, Miss Granger, that little boy was me. My mother loved me very much, not that I understood that for a long time. When my parents told me that they were not my actual parents I was angry. Why would my mother leave me with them when as far as my parents knew she loved me more than she loved anything, even my father? The Blacks decided to keep the reason she left secret from me until I was of age, but when my family saw how all this knowledge of my real family was eating me up they decided to tell me the truth."

Hermione unconsciously leaned forward, "My mother, as it turns out, didn't leave out the front door of the Black Mansion, Hermione. Nor did she depart from any of the doors, or disapparate. She left with floo powder that turned the fire a blazing purple."

"But floo powder turns fire emerald."

"Yes it does... when the user is only moving through space and not time."

"Time?"

"That's right. My mother had to return to her own time, 1998."

"Your mother is from this time? Why did she go back in the first place? Have you met her?"

"I don't know exactly why she went back in the first place, but I'm glad she did, or I wouldn't have been born. I don't mean to sound like I am bragging, but I have furthered the magical population quite a bit since I began researching after attending Durmstrang. Between Albus and myself, we have innovated several branches of magic in ways no one had thought before. Without my birth, my mother would never have been able to go back in the first place, as Severus Snape and myself invented the Purple Floo. The Magical World is a better place because of my mother's manipulations." Adrian shook his head as if clearing that line of thought, and continued the story.

"Thinking of my mother comfort me now, I have seen my foster parents' memories of her in their pensieve and I know she loved me very much, but what I don't know is who my father is. I've waited fifty years to know his identity." Robert Granger's face appeared in Hermione's mind, she saw herself playing with him as a child and debating with him as she grew. His smile, the derivative of her own, brightened many a day and his laugh made her laugh. A pang shot through her heart, his death in the war still plagued her nightmares no amount of time would make her miss him less.

"I can't imagine not knowing my father. He was a good man, he taught me to read, to ride a bike," the wizard across from her pulled his countenance into a puzzled expression. At his face she explained, "It's a rite of passage much like first learning to ride a broomstick. Most importantly though he loved my mother and me very much."

"I've never felt that I missed out on much because I had Cygnus who was my father in every sense of the word except blood. But still, a part of me has always been missing, the part filled by knowing your parents, their faults and their strengths and comparing those to your own. How can I do that if I don't even know his identity?"

"I don't know, I've never had to wonder about it before. I guess you'd have to ask your mother, or your own parents. You said he was a friend of your father's, so they would know, right?"

"They did know, Hermione, but until their deaths--"

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

"It's quite alright, it's been many years. But like I was saying, they knew but refused to tell me. Apparently it was my mother's wish for me not to know."

"What kind of mother would deny her son the right to know his father?"

"I thought that for a while too, but then when I felt I knew my mother's character better through the pensieve, I figured she wasn't like that-- that she must have a had a good reason. Therefore, it has become my mission to locate her and to find out."

"But how are you going to find her? And what if she hasn't gone back yet?"

"She hasn't gone back yet, but I will give her the tools she needs to be able to go back to the '40's and then return. As much as I would love her to stay there and raise me herself, even I know better than that. Messing with time is very tricky, the more I research it, the better I understand that. She _must_ come back, the survival of this time depends on it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well in her time, my mother is a very famous war heroine."

Hermione's brained clicked just then. _Of course_, she thought, _why else would he come here and tell me, a mere girl he's never met before, one of the most personal stories that has ever been told, one he hadn't even told Dumbledore until tonight, if I'm correct. He's here telling this to me, so that must mean..._

"I can see by your face that you must have figured it out." Those kind blue eyes twinkling almost as obviously as the headmaster's, and his suddenly familiar mouth spread into a comforting smile. "Yes, Hermione, you are the girl who is going to go back in time, and yes, you are my mother."

And the girl who never once passed out in her entire eighteen years on this earth, the girl who faced dangers, torture, famine, fire, and war without even feeling faint, rolled her eyes into her head and passed out.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Sorry this took so long, folks. College has a way of making time sneak by you. So does discovering a new fandom. In my case, Life With Derek. And it's good. Don't worry, updates will coming more frequently.

To those who review, thank you. To those silent readers, that's cool too.

I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's a little rough.

* * *

Green eyes peeked cautiously around the Charms corridor. The invisible youth made his way cautiously across the hallway, one eye searching the visage and the other glued to the enchanted map he had grasped in his hand. After a few more deserted pathways and a close encounter with the caretaker's cat, Mrs. Norris, Harry Potter found himself situated in front of the one place in Hogwarts he was never eager to visit: The Hospital Wing.

* * *

Quidditch practice ended exactly an hour earlier and Harry had made his way up to Gryffindor Tower along with his team mates, joking with Ron about the upcoming game. Upon exiting the Fat Lady's entrance, the Boy-Who-Lived, in a rare moment of keen observation, noticed the remarkable lack of the Head Girl's presence in the room. Perhaps this was not such a keen observation, as the usual presence of Hermione consisted of a substantial amount of old looking texts that reached out, surrounding her in a twelve meter circumference. Without her there, the room looked terribly dull and barren, almost as if it missed its mistress and her coteries of smelly books.

Harry, now feeling anxious, extended a lame excuse that none of the other Gryffindors bought, gathered his map and cloak from his trunk, and set off to find his best friend. A quick glance at his father's map told her she was in the Hospital Wing. A shiver of apprehension ran down his spine as he started jogging invisibly to find Hermione.

Now here he stood, equal parts curious and nervous, talking himself into entering-- scared of what he might find. Sure, the war was over, but that did not mean the fighting had completely stopped. Wackos made plays on his own life bi-monthly. Gritting his teeth, Harry entered the wing, his eyes searching for her. He found her on the far western wall, and took off towards her, narrowly focusing on just her safety.

"Hermione!" He shouted, glad to see her.

"She's okay, Harry." His head whipped around, stunned to see a strange man sitting next to his dear friend. Harry was slightly disappointed in himself that he had managed to completely overlook the older man.

"I'm not sure who you are, and I'm sure we'll get to that, but for right now, can you just tell me what happened?" The older man smiled, his countenance oddly comforting for reasons unknown to Harry.

"Sure. I told her some shocking news that she needed to know, and she fainted."

"You're lying! Tell me what really happened!" Harry rounded on the older man, furious. The man was lying to his face! He knew his best friend better than anyone-- they had a connection that transcended mere friendship. She stuck by him through thick and thin, the Sorcerer's stone, the Basilisk, going _through time_ even. Not to mention facing Voldemort right next to him no less than three times! And once when she was only sixteen. No way this man was going to come in here and tell him that his sister in every way that counts, had fainted at a mere story when she had _never_ fainted.

"That is what happened, Harry, I promise." The man said in an infuriatingly calm voice.

"Why should I trust you? I have no idea who you are and what you've told me contradicts everything I know about my best friend. Now, tell me what you did to her."

"I told you the truth, I told her some very unusual news and she just fainted. Dumbledore will back my claim, he knows what the information pertains to."

As soon as he finished talking, the Headmaster himself walked into the Hospital Wing. "Harry. Adrian." He acknowledged both men in turn. "Miss Granger seems to have taken the news better than I thought she would. All of my things are still in working order." Harry, remembering his own stint in Dumbledore's office in which the Headmaster's possessions were destroyed hung his head. Realizing his rudeness, Harry turned to the other man.

"Sorry I didn't believe you, sir. I just –" The other man held up his hand to cut Harry off.

"That's perfectly alright, Hermione was injured and her best friend was just concerned about her."

"Well, thank you for understanding," he said with a half smile.

Dumbledore followed the exchange and took this as his opportunity to make introductions. "Harry, this is my long time friend, Adrian Black."

Predictably, Harry's eyes almost shot out of his head in his surprise. "Black? You're related to Sirius? But, why weren't you on the Family Tapestry? Did the old hag blast you off too? How –"

"Harry," the Headmaster started, "Harry, calm down. Adrian will answer all of your question in time. Right now, let's focus on Hermione as I see she seems to be waking up."

Right on cue, Hermione's brown eyes blinked open, initially taking in her surroundings. Harry could practically follow her train of thought, knowing her as well as he did. _She's recognizing the ceiling, and now she's confirming the reason she was sent here._ Right on time, shock and panic began spreading across her face and she sat up abruptly, noticing the three men in the room with her. After a couple seconds, she began to noticeably calm as her companions watched her silently almost as if scared to startle her in this condition.

"Harry, Professor Dumbledore, um, A-Adrian." She looked at them each in turn. "How are you" She squeaked. Just then, Madam Pomfrey burst out of her office.

"Ah, Miss Granger, I see you're awake. Mr. Black tells me you've had quite a shock. Here, take this potion," She handed a neon green concoction over to her patient, "And this one," This time a thick purple potion, "And, one more just to play it safe," and with that she forced a thick brown potion that smelled vaguely of mud into the young woman's already over-populated arms. "Well, don't just sit there, drink them!"

Harry met her eyes and had to fight back a laugh at the overwhelmed expression marring her features. Being a regular in this particular part of the castle himself, Harry knew the matronly nurse could be overbearing and abrupt in her care, but she hadn't let him die, so far.

Dumbledore chose the moment Madam Pomfrey returned to her office to begin the talk that all of them knew was forthcoming.

"Well, Miss Granger, you certainly surprised us all."

"Yes, sorry sir, I've never been inclined for histrionics. I'm embarrassed that I fainted." She avoided all eye contact while her cheeks turned a rosy pink.

Harry watched her and watched Adrian Black's reaction simultaneously. After all, he had no idea who this man was really, and he certainly did not trust him with his best friend. Until someone explained what was going on and why this strange man, regardless of his relation to Sirius, remained in the Hospital Wing, Harry had no motivation to trust him. Therefore, he caught the look of wonder that crossed Black's elegant countenance as he tried to subtly watch Hermione.

"Hermione, ah," Black started, and cut himself off by clearing his throat rather more forcefully than was necessary, "Hermione, it's completely understandable under the circumstances. You were very emotionally distraught, and--"

"And nothing, Adrian." She looked intensely at the older man for reasons still unknown to Harry who was becoming exponentially more frustrated by each cryptic comment shared in this dismal ward. "The news you brought me was unforeseeable, sure, but..." Hermione reached out a hand and patted Black's arm rather awkwardly but the intent was to comfort and in that regard it was rather sweet. She smiled as she continued, "But, the news is not altogether unwelcome. Rather unorthodox, but, after losing my parents, any family at all is welcome." At this point Harry was fighting an inner battle, interrupt them and demand to know what was going on, or continue to listen to the conversation and find out more that way. The latter won out for the time being.

A simple "Thank you," was all the raven haired man could manage, based on the distraught look on his face.

Hermione, to Harry's further astonishment, replied in an emotion-laden whisper, "I so look forward to getting to know you."

The two of them focused entirely on the other, caught up in a mixture of fascination and awe that Harry recognized but could not comprehend. He stole a glance at Dumbledore, and was surprised to see a tear gliding down his cheek. Okay, enough is enough. Now Harry absolutely had to know what was going on.

In typical Gryffindor fashion, there was no build-up, but an out-of-the-blue outburst that surprised everyone, including Harry. "CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?" Hermione jumped out of her trance and acted as if she had just noticed him, which, he thought grudgingly, might have been the case.

That, however, did not stop her from admonishing his rude behavior no matter what queer web of family ties she had gotten herself into. Someone had to look after him, and she had been playing that role for years now. "HARRY JAMES POTTER!" she started. _Not off to a good start, then, am I?_ He thought to himself as he squirmed under her perfected glare.

"How DARE you barge in here and demand to know things that in all honesty are none of your business! You are so--" Harry recognized that he needed to cut her off before she really got going, those rants had been known to go on for weeks.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, I just became frustrated when everyone else in this room knows what's going on except me. Besides," He added, conscious of the fact that two grown wizards who are universally held in high esteem (well, he assumed Black was if he were a long-time friend of Dumbledore) still occupied the room and were witness to his atrocious behavior. "I've always let you in on my secrets and my life. I was momentarily mad that you held out on me when I've always let you know everything." Right, now maybe the puppy dog eyes would work now. He shot them full blast.

"Harry," she looked at him, her ire softened. "When would I have had time to tell you? I would, of course, tell you. As you must have gathered though," _oh no, the sarcasm is coming... must remember to duck!_ "I fainted, which may I remind you, I _never_ do, after said information was imparted to me. So you tell me, Potter, when the _bloody hell_ was I supposed to tell you?"

Harry looked down at his well-worn shoes, kicking the floor a bit and trying desperately to hide his embarrassment in front of these prominent men. It was one thing to be the dumbest person by miles in a room, but another level of humiliation to have possibly the three smartest citizens of the wizarding world see your childish behavior, even if you were the savior of said wizarding world.

"You're right, Hermione, I'm sorry. You know I just hate not knowing things. Sorry, I'll just..." he made a half-hearted gesture to the door, feeling unwanted.

"Wait, you moron," she said in an indulgent manner she only used with him and Ron. "If Adrian agrees to it, I will tell you my news right here so that you can be on the same page. Besides, it never hurts to have another respected opinion. And I would never want to keep you out of this."

Surprisingly, Dumbledore jumped in here, "It is, of course, up to you and Adrian whom you tell, but I hope this will not go farther than this room. Not even Mr. Weasley, I think, as he is known to accidentally let things slip and this is a matter of great importance, and most delicate in the way it needs to be handled."

Hermione took in his advice and conceded, "You're probably right, Headmaster. Just Harry then. Is that okay with you, Adrian?"

Dumbledore excused himself with the parting thought that he'd already heard the story and would leave them to it while the fourth forgotten companion looked from Hermione to Harry and nodded to her. "If you trust Harry, then I shall as well. I leave it to your discretion, Hermione. Would you like to tell the tale or would you like me to?"

"Well, you tell it so well, Adrian, I think you should. Wouldn't want to waste all the years you've had practicing to go to waste." She smiled as she gently teased him.

"No, we wouldn't want that." He then turned to Harry, "Well, Mr. Potter, it begins like this..."

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Harry said about fifteen confusing minutes later, "he's your son that you had fifty something years in the past with your supposed soul mate who's identity is still unknown to both of you, and," He turned to Adrian, "you spent your entire life developing the means for Hermione to go back just so that you would be able to be born? I'm so confused." He looked from mother to son, identical looks of sheepishness on their faces, "You're going back in time, Hermione? Again?"

"Again, Hermione?" Adrian asked.

"Story for another time. It involves a different Black."

"Ah okay."

"Well, I know this is all kind of new but have you decided when you're going back and how long you'll stay there? How will you know when to come back? What if--"

"Harry!" She cut him off. "Relax with the questions already. No I haven't had time to think about it at all. I assume I am to go back soon, thus the reason Adrian had to wait for a precise time to tell me."

Her son nodded, "That's right. I hate to cut the timing so close, but you'll have to go back tonight at exactly 11:04, which gives us little time. I hadn't foreseen you being, um, _indisposed_... and I wanted to be able to spend some time with you, getting to know you."

Harry saw a bit of what he must have looked like as a teenager, unsure of his parentage and eager for any knowledge of his parents. Harry could definitely relate to that.

"Well, I'll leave you two alone for a while to catch up, and meet up with you again in an hour to see you off. Where do you want to meet?"

"How about the Room of Requirement?"

"Yeah, that sounds good. I'll see you two then. Bye." With one last look at the unlikely pair, Harry turned around and left the room with the intention of killing an hour in the kitchens with Dobby.

* * *

At a few minutes before eleven, Harry Potter reached the Room of Requirement. Entering, he saw Hermione and Adrian. Black was handing her an old tattered book and she was looking at it like it was the Fountain of Youth and she was Voldemort.

"Adrian, where did you get this?"

"It's been in the Black family for a long time, and well, I might have _borrowed _it last time I was home. You know what this does, do you not?"

Her expression took on an affronted look. "Of course I know what this is. It's the _Book of Different Eras_! Do you have the other one?"

"Yes, I do. It's at my home in France."

"So we'll be able to--"

"Yes. That's what I was hoping." Once again, Harry was dreadfully confused as he stood in the shadows, watching his friend. "I'd like to stay in contact with you. Time will keep moving here without you. But when you get back you'll be able to finish the year and take your N.E.W.T.s and who knows, maybe I'll take up the Defense Against the Dark Arts post to be near you."

Her smile lit up the room. "I would love that. I imagine I'll love it even more when I get back, when we know each other better."

"Then I will talk to Albus about it after you leave." Harry decided it was time he announced his presence.

"So, when did you have to leave Hermione?"

"Oh, Harry, you scared me! Um, I have about two minutes, then the green floo in this bag," she held the bag up for him to see. It was a dark forest green and he could make out some lighter green powder spilling out of the top. "will take anything touching it back in time."

"How does that work? How does it know when to take the person?"

She strode over to him and put the bag in his hand. "See here?" she pointed at the powder, "the shade of green it is determines how many years you go back. Adrian, my brilliant son here, developed it based on arithmancy equations he worked on and then consulted with Snape to brew various potions that resulted in different powders that take travelers back to different times."

Adrian added on, "For some odd reason the powder only works at exactly 11:04, and as it's 11:03 now, you'd better be careful Harry. Give the powder back to Hermione."

Harry started to hand the bag back, but it was a little too full and he spilled it on his hands and clothes.

"Oh damn. Here hold the bag while I get this off."

"Harry, hurry, it's almost time. You'll get sucked back with me!"

He started frantically brushing his clothes. So caught up in his frenzy, he didn't even notice when Hermione began trying to clean him off too. At 11:03:50 both teenagers doubled their speed, unaware they could even go that fast, hands blurring. The powder was not coming off.

"Harry!" Hermione's plea fell on non-listening ears, as Harry had started trying to take his shirt off and Adrian was staring in shock.

At 11:03:59 Hermione resigned that Harry was coming too, and glanced up for one more look at her new-found son. Then, her world went green.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Ah summer, where good intentions come to die. Sorry this took so long. I'm a horrible person, I know. Let me know what you think. Or not, it's all good.

It was a very beautiful day. A bright, sunny, picture-perfect late summer day. And Tom hated it.

Benny Cooper tripped him on his way to the bathroom again, making him fall to the ground naked as his towel was ripped from him 'accidentally.' On top of that, this day's horribleness escalated when Sally Simpson gushed over him again. She used the baby voice this time. God, how he detested that voice. One day he would teach her that baby voices, or in her case any voices, should not be used before eight in the morning. It was cruel and unusual punishment.

At least here he didn't have to keep up his school-persona. At the orphanage Tom's only weapon was his words and though every fiber of his being hated this place, he made the best of it by sharpening that weapon, as he was never one to waste time or opportunity. Without his magic Tom had to resort to putting others in their place by fear and intimidation alone. Normally, he had no problem accomplishing that easily, but every year new children came fresh from their dead family's homes and he had to start all over. This year's group was a particularly thick lot, Benny and Sally most prominent.

Benny had aspirations to run the orphanage, and had been steadily picking off the competition all summer long. Tom would have been impressed by his sneaky tactics if it weren't for the fact that Benny had dubbed him enemy number one. It wasn't that Tom was the leader that bothered Benny, because Tom did not lead mere muggles, he co-existed with them temporarily. No, what bothered Benny was that every child living there respected and feared Slytherin's heir. Benny was jealous. Tom got an entire week's entertainment out of that thought alone. The next week's came from watching Benny try to act exactly like Tom and only inspiring laughter rather than fear. All summer long Benny tried to capture the intangible quality that Tom had in abundance, but to no avail. Finally, in a last ditch effort, Benny rejected all respectable Slytherin-like behavior, and went full on Gryffindor: physical bullying. Tom lost all respect for him as an opponent.

This last week was the week from hell. Benny caught him in the shower, stole his clothes and locked him out of the boys' rooms. Benny looked like the cat that caught the cream for about five minutes until Tom bested him by innocently inquiring why Benny wanted to see him naked so bad. The other boys laughed uproariously. Since then, the new kid went to all lengths to physically hurt the long time resident, tripping, punching, kicking. He had even forgone subtlety in his rage. Then, Tom knew he had beaten the kid at his own game. When you lose control of yourself, you lose control of the situation. Tom-1 Orphanage-0.

Benny was nothing, however, to Sally Simpson. Tom would gladly take three Benny's if it meant he could avoid Sally. Because with Benny, Tom knew the rules. In fact, Tom made the rules. Sally, though, played by rules that a blind person wrote and then picked out of a hat. Basically, there were no rules, except when there were, and he only knew when there were rules after he had broken them. Girls. Tom's first impression of Sally was that of an air-headed bimbo who only lived to gossip. This impression was confirmed when she caught sight of him from across the yard where he was observing this year's pickings, and she fainted. He had absolutely no idea why. The next day she trapped him after his meager lunch and kissed him.

Tom Riddle, Slytherin's heir, next year's Head Boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, orphaned wizard, prospective dark wizard, was caught unawares by a simpleton female with spots all over her face. He would have never lived that down if any of his associates had seen it. Thank Merlin for small favors, like none of them living at the same orphanage. But then again, if he himself hadn't had to live in this dump then she would never have even seen him. That line of thought just put him in a bad mood again.

The problem with Sally was that no matter how many times he insulted her, tore her apart verbally, emotionally, mentally, she just didn't stop. It was like she completely ignored his well thought out insults and _forgave_ him. Who does that? It was insulting in itself. He made remarks about her dead family, insinuated that she was a prostitute, tried to play connect the dots with her acne, and all she did was run off only to return again later.

Sometimes she would just stare at him. That was the worst, well, after the baby talk. Tom had taken a reluctant leaf out of Benny's book and attempted using a new approach, ignoring her. After all, he failed miserably at taunting _her_ into ignoring _him_. This new tactic, however, had its pros and cons. One of the few pros was that he perfected the art of sneaking around. Dealing with the Basilisk his fifth year made him already exemplary at it, but this just enhanced his skill. And Tom was all about using otherwise wasted time to his advantage. Unfortunately, ignoring Sally just made her that much more enthusiastic when he did accidentally get caught. That's when she started the baby talk. He spent the better part of a day wondering where and how he would hide her body without using magic, and coming up blank was the literally the only reason he allowed her to live. Plus, he was working on his self-control, not that he needed to, and the fewer suspicious deaths connected to him, the better for him later in life. Tom had plans, plans that an ignorant menace like Sally Simpson was not important enough to ruin.

* * *

The last week in the orphanage lasted _decades_ to Tom, he reflected on the journey to King's Cross. For a while he thought Benny and Sally must have been in cahoots, because rarely an hour passed when one of them was not in his presence. Oh the things he did for the secrecy of the Wizarding World.

Thank Salazar those two muggles, the "volunteers," and the whole damn orphanage were behind him. They were his past, but he was meant for bigger and better things, and a short jaunt at the orphanage each year (after his entire repressed childhood that he refused to acknowledge as actually having happened to him) only made it easier to wipe the planet of the whole lot of them a few years down the road. Know thine enemy. Tom lived by those words.

Looking out the window, Tom pontificated on his last car ride to King's Cross. Any association he had with muggles would cease to exist after this day. The only bit of muggle he could never quash, his father's dirty blood, ate at him like gnats on a summer's twilight. He hated that world—the humiliation and loneliness he endured because of his dastardly muggle father's and said father's refusal to acknowledge him as his son. It wasn't Tom's fault his mother slipped Tom Sr. a love potion. Muggles can't even take responsibility for their own actions right. They are as backwards as house elves demanding monetary payment. But Tom digressed.

After the majority of the car ride had passed, Tom Riddle felt he had exhausted this line of thought. He could go on and on about the inherent _wrongness_ of muggles, but until he _acted_ he was as bad as any common wizard. Already he had shown promising results after the Basilisk killed that Mudblood. That was some progress, at least. But it wasn't ambitious enough for the house of ambition's heir. Tom wanted more. Tom was more. Now he just had to prove it.

Any old wizard, Pureblood or Halfblood, could talk the talk, but Tom has a plan. Well, he has plans to make a plan to do something about the weakness of the world. Wizards could be more than fairy tales, witches and wizards everywhere could rule those inferior to them, those without magic. And Tom Riddle Jr. was going to make that happen. He would use this year to come up with a plan. And then, this time next year, he would put that plan into action. Yes, this would be an important year.

The car jerked to a stop and the elderly woman driving turned around in her seat to glare at her passenger.

"We're here boy. Quick, get out, before my son's family comes and sees how low I've sunk, shuttling orphans about for a quick pound." Tom mentally added another reason to his growing _List of Reasons to Hate Muggles_. So far he had 346, ranging from bad breath to bombs. Bombs were no fun when they exploded around your head unexpectedly and you had no wand to protect yourself.

Tom began the mental switch back into wizard mode where he utilized all of his charisma (after all, one never knows when one may need a connection), and pleasantly thanked the woman, all the while, planning her death in his head. He even smiled, though she glowered back. Well, just for that he'd kill her himself someday. Tom abhorred impoliteness. Especially when one the rude party is not the stronger party. In this case, however, the woman probably did not know that he had all the power. Most muggles don't know that he could kill them with one wave of a piece of yew wood. He guessed he could let her off.

He made his way through the paranoid crowd with his trunk full of his pitiful belongings, navigating to Platform 9 and ¾. Tom felt his first genuine smile of the entire summer as he gazed at the magical doorway between Platforms 9 and 10. Finally, finally he was going back to where he belonged. His home.

Students and their parents hugged and coddled each other like the pathetic weaklings they were. So the wizarding world was in a war, no big deal. _This is nothing_, he thought, _just wait until I show them a real war. Then they won't even be able to go to Hogwarts, they'll be so frightened._ With that thought, and the promise of his comfort zone, Tom relaxed into his seat.

The compartment door slid open, a small second year boy looked in, met Tom's cold glare, and practically flew out of the room. Funny how just an hour or so can make all the difference. All is right in the world again. Tom spent the next few hours in solitary silence, reading his textbooks for the fourth time. Right as the sun was setting, Bridget Malonnes thew open the compartment door. Tom prided himself that he did not react to the surprise.

She stood there for a few minutes, impatiently tapping her foot, until she couldn't stand his silence anymore. "Well, are you ever going to acknowledge me, Riddle?"

Bridget Malonnes was quite simply an idiot. Everyone liked her though, as she normally did not cause any drama and was too timid to actually start a conflict with anyone else. According to her behavior now, though, Tom was thinking they jumped the gun on giving her that shiny Head Girl's badge as this sort of behavior would grant her a few enemies. Himself at the top of the list.

"You walked into _my_ compartment, Malonnes. That implies that _you _were looking for _me_." He said, his tone arrogant and bored. "It only follows that you would be looking for me for a reason, therefore, you have something to tell me or ask me. In either case, you should speak first as I was not the one to thrust my presence upon someone who did not want it."

She looked at him blankly. "I've made Head Girl."

"Yes, I can see that as I have eyes and the discipline to observe very shiny badges with HG written on them."

She continued as if she didn't hear his sarcastic reply, "And as you're Head Boy, I figured we should arrange details of when we're going to meet and ..."

"No Malonnes. I will be making all the decisions. I will be the one the prefects report to. You will be a figure head and do as I tell you. There will be no meetings, and there will be no arguments. I have final say, and I have absolute rule. You will not interfere, or there will be_ repercussions_. Do you understand me?"

Tom didn't often go straight into the authoritative approach, but knowing her past timidity, he figured she would respond best to the direct approach. Stupid Gryffindors usually did. Might as well get it all out now, lay down the law so to speak.

Apparently his conjecture was right, because all aggressive behavior had ceased and she looked like she might cry. His first conversation of the year, and already making someone cry. That was a new record for him.

He watched her deflate. "Oh, um, well okay. Let me know... um, yeah, okay."

"I'll be sure to be in touch should I need your—help." He said, then went back to his book. She got the hint and left the compartment with her tail between her legs.

The rest of the ride flew by, the Sorting went off without a hitch and the feast was as exemplary as it ever was. Time sped up, weeks of classes flew by with nary a mistake on Tom's part. Points were earned, Quidditch matches were won and lost, Peeves pranked everyone except for Slytherin's young heir and poor little Bridget Malonnes hadn't bothered him at all. Classes remained, as always, far too easy for Tom. He felt he could have passed all his N.E.W.T.s the same time he demolished his O.W.L.s. No one in history—Dumbledore included—had ever gotten as many O.W.L.s as the Head Boy, and consequently, Tom grew bored. With nothing and no one to challenge him, he made up things to relieve the tedium.

That's where the whole 'world domination' thing came into play. Tom was sitting in Potions one day, Slughorn breathing down his neck practically trying to kiss him, and Tom just felt the boredom and _superiority_ overcome him. Tom never let emotions overcome him, as part of his self-discipline, but this time it was different. He needed a new goal. Achieving never-before-seen-O.W.L.-results had been accomplished and now he had nothing to strive for.

His thoughts turned to all the Houses of old, the Blacks and the Malfoys. Their bigoted pride in their blood forced distance between them, the austere Purebloods and him, the lowly Half-blood. But alas, wouldn't it be fun to make them kneel before him? Would it not be entertaining to watch as they grovelled at his, the Half-blood they had looked down upon (though respected for his scary knowledge of the Dark Arts), feet and begged him for his favor? And from there, his planned formed. The perfect plan to kill two pathetic birds with one enormously entertaining stone. Since that fateful day last year Tom had focused all his energy into his goal.

This year the new Head Boy picked up right where he had left off. Although he did not have a fool-proof plan quite yet, he had come across some things in the Restricted Section that had given him good ideas. This year he would gather all those threads of ideas and bind them together into one overarching plan—deciding his actions after he left school. Anyway, months flew by in a haze of dissatisfaction and unhappiness, and before Tom knew it, Christmas break had arrived.

Tom stood freezing on the dropping-covered floor in the Owlery, attaching an inquiry letter to Borgin & Burkes about possible employment after graduation. He had to start somewhere looking for founder's objects for his newly discovered master plan, after all. As he leaned out the window to release the Barn Owl, he saw a curious flash of green light streak across the horizon. It swooshed across the visage, cris-crossing and even doing figure-eights only to come to a screeching halt as it landed heavily somewhere out in the Forbidden Forest.

_That was weird_, thought Tom. And he decided to check it out later that night.


End file.
